Dragonborn Origins
by Kicker1015
Summary: Inspired by the Alternate Start Mod for Skyrim, here are a series of short stories chronicling different origin stories for the Dragonborn. Rated K because fighting as featured in the game is described.
1. Thrall

Dragonborn Origins: Thrall

I'm awake. I glance around me, somehow familiar with these walls, yet unsure where I am, or even who I am. I am unsteady... I reach out and see a dark green arm press against a rough stone wall. The pressure of the points in the rock confirms that I am at last awake.

In a rush, I begin to remember things. I am Grognut, an Orc of Skyrim, and I have been in a haze ever since I can remember. I look to my hands, examining them for some sign of my recent fate.

They are well calloused, indicating I've been doing some sort of manual labour during my time out of full consciousness. My claws have dulled somewhat, meaning I haven't been fighting much recently.

On the tip of my right little finger sits a ring, and I sense a small amount of magical power exuding from it. I push it down, securing it more fully below the knuckle. As I do, I feel the confusion leaving me further. I have a faint memory of accidentally putting my finger through it just before I awoke, which points to this ring being enchanted to resist magic spells. My last memory comes rushing back to me. I remember seeing a man in robes then a flash of light. I've been under the spell of a magician!

Looking around, I realize that I stand next to a strange table which glows with runes and symbols. If my memory serves, it is an enchantment table, and probably the source of the ring's enchantments. A few other rings and a set of dark robes lay on the table as well.

I hear a shuffle of feet from nearby, and I turn to see a small man, a Nord, in black robes approaching. The Nord has a skull amulet around his neck, and a few silver rings on his fingers. His eyes blaze with a determination unusual for one his size. A black beard adorns his chin, and he holds a glowing crystal in his left hand, a soul gem. Seeing my look of confusion, his face stretches in a matching look.

I quickly dull my expression and say, attempting to keep his suspicions down, "What is your bidding, Master?"

The Nord's face returns to a soft grin. He seems reassured of my continuing service. "Clean up this mess!" He shouts, pointing to a spot behind me. Turning to look, I see a pile of random junk that filled the area farther back in the cave. I set to work, methodically sorting each item into categories to sell, keep, or throw out, as directed by the Nord.

Eventually, the Nord grows bored of supervising me, and leaves the room momentarily. Leaping upon this chance, I quickly grab a steel dagger from the pile and hide it in my palm. When the Nord returns, he immediately suspects something is up, as I've stopped working.

"Why have you stopped?" He cries, "You're my thrall! Do my bidding!"

"Vengeance is mine!" I shout, and charge. To his credit, he manages to dodge my first strike, narrowly missing being hewn in two with my dagger. As I turn to attack again, the Nord throws a spell, likely meaning to reenchant me. I push through it, feeling my ring wicking the spell from my body. With a quick motion, I grab hold of the Nord by the scruff of his robes with my left hand and place the dagger to his throat with my right.

"Why did you do this to me?" I shout.

"Because I needed a thrall. And Orcs make fine servants." He sneers back, though I can see the fright in his eyes already.

I shove him against the wall, scraping and tearing his robes against the rough stone wall. "How long? How long have you stolen from my life?!" My rage builds, ready to burst.

"Only a year...so far." He somehow maintains his composure despite my rage.

As I'm about to end his miserable life, I feel a presence behind me. I look back momentarily and see a long wicked dagger hanging in the air just behind me. A voice seems to flow from everywhere at once. "Yes, take my blade and take your revenge!" It whispers.

In a whirl, I swing around and grab the blade by the pommel. With a shout, I ram it through the Nord's ribs, burying it to the cross guard. The Nord falls dead instantly.

Recovering from my bloodlust, I turn to where the dagger hung. I catch a glimpse of a demonic figure, which is quickly replaced by a smiling man, floating lazily in the air. "First rate revenge, if I may say," He chuckles.

"What do you want from me?" I ask, "and it is only tradition among Orsimer to severely punish those who do wrong against us." I pull the dagger from the Nord's chest. "I suppose I should return your weapon, sir Daedric lord."

"You have a quick mind for an Orc. Indeed, I am Mehrunes Dagon, Lord of Mischief. I could use a Mer like you. How would you like to serve under me?"

"How may I serve thee?" I respond, knowing never to insult a Daedric Lord. After all, they are extremely powerful beings.

"I will make you my champion of this realm. Simply go about your business as a warrior, and I will be with you as your benefactor. All I ask is that you carry my blade, "Mehrunes' Razor", and stain it with the blood of your enemies often." I look down at the weapon, and it floats out of the Nords and flies to my hand.

Turning my attention back to Dagon, I reply, "That I can do, Sir Dagon. Though do not be offended if I use a larger weapon at times, as your "Razor" is quite small for an Orc." I huff politely.

"Fair enough," he shrugs, "Fare thee well, Grognut, Champion of Skyrim!" And with a small whisper, the man disappears.

I breath a sigh of relief. The Daedra are not always so nice to mortals, especially Dagon. Heck, he tried to destroy the empire completely not 300 years ago. I decide not to worry too much about it.

I kick the Nord out of the way and carefully pick through the piles of armor. I find a good set of Steel Armor. After strapping it on, I also grab a nice Elven War Axe so I have something besides Mehrunes Razor.

I also grab a small bag from a corner, and toss anything of value inside to sell at the nearest town. Strapping on my new weaponry, I begin to leave the cave, but first I turn and give the Nord a swift kick to the head for good measure.

-T-

I step out into the light, blinking at the brightness. I guess that's what happens when you've been in a cave for a year.

Luckily, I recognize the area. I am just south of the City of Solitude. I figure that I can get to the road by heading up toward Solitude. After traveling for a few moments, I sit down on a rock to rest. I feel like I haven't had a solid night's sleep in over a year, which seems entirely possible.

Just as I begin to relax, I hear the howling of wolves nearby. Grunting with the effort, I raise myself back off the rock. My axe skids from my belt with a soft scrape, and, searching the horizon, I spot a pack of 3 wolves headed my way.

"Finally, some true bloody combat," I grumble to myself.

As the first wolf approaches, I grab the Razor in my off hand and prep my attack. The wolf leaps to tear out my throat, but I smack it down with the side of my axe. I then quickly bring the Razor down, ending the wolf's life quickly.

Another wolf leaps to take me from above as I crouch. With a roar, I swing my axe overhead, cleaving open the wolf's torso.

As I kick the corpse from my blade, I see the third wolf trying to make a getaway, having seen its brothers' deaths. I heave my axe, throwing it straight and true into the wolf's legs, crippling it with large wounds across its hind legs. I calmly walk toward the final wolf with just a bit of swagger. It feels good to be back in business, fighting as an Orc should. I whisper "For Dagon," and slit the wolf's throat with the Razor.

I stand and roar as is the custom of my people, a great roar of triumph, "Braaaaagh!"

"Raaaaaaaaaaaaasssshhh"

Another roar comes from just to the south, which confuses me, as it doesn't sound Orcish at all. What else could roar like that?

Suddenly a huge gray creature whips past me from the hill to the south, a great reptilian beast! A Dragon!? It drops behind a hill to the north before I get another look, but I feel certain it must be a dragon.

I remembered the stories of the Dragons, long dead since the days of Ysgramor and the old Blades. It has always been every Orc's dream to face an enemy as great as the dragons of old. Now, I would get to see a dragon in the flesh!

I begin to run north, giddy at the prospect of so great a battle. I crest the hill, and see a horrific scene.

A small group of yellow garbed soldiers, the guards of Solitude, are regrouping behind a ruined tower. The great beast, more clearly a dragon now that I get a good look, is standing amongst the corpses of multiple dead guards. Quickly, I pick my way down the hill, sort of sneaking up behind the dragon.

The band of guards come around the tower, making for the dragon. I watch the reptile rear up, ready to roast these last guards, but I smash the head of my war axe right into its left leg. It mostly bounces off, but the small gash I create surprises the dragon, knocking it off balance. It doesn't fall, but the momentary lapse allows the guards to draw closer without dying.

As the dragon turns to face me, I grab a steel battle axe off of the ground and shout at the dragon. As it lashes out to bite me, I roll away, stuffing the axe down its throat. I get a few cuts from its teeth, but they quickly stop hurting as a guard casts a healing spell.

"Thanks," I growl, unsheathing the Razor.

The dragon seems to choke for a moment, but then its throat glows red and orange, releasing a wave of heat. Rivulets of melted steel trickle from every crevice of the dragon's snout. It melted the axe!

I quickly grab up a shield from the ground, deciding I'll need to be a bit more tactical here.

"Rain your arrows upon him," I shout to the guards, "I'll draw his attention." I quickly lift my shield, blocking a stream of fire as the dragon attacks. I circle around slowly, keeping the dragon's attention as a numerous arrows strike the dragon's back. We trade blows, and I manage to get a few good strikes in; the gashes bleed into the dragon's mouth and nose, distracting it momentarily each time its nose clogs. I take a few slashes and get some burns, but I'm surprised how well I hold up.

Eventually, I grow sick of waiting, and engage the dragon directly once more. Once it's nose clogs again, I run right up and heave myself onto its head. Hanging on for dear life, I manage to use the Razor to put out the dragon's eyes, then chop over and over with my war axe until it gives up. Finally, I whisper "For Dagon" and wiggle the Razor through the scales, driving it into the brain of the dragon.

I leap off as a strange reaction begins to occur. The dragon is spontaneously combusting! The dragon burns for a few moments, until only bones remain. Then, a strange energy flows from the skeleton, rushing straight at me. I take the assault head on, expecting an impact and pain, but the waves enter my body softly, revitalizing my strength to a point greater than I've felt since I awoke.

I feel a great pressure build in my lungs, and I open my mouth to release it, shouting a syllable pushing at my mind: "FUS!" I Shout.

A wave of force rattles the skeleton before me, and bends the nearby trees. The Solitude guards gather around me, in awe of my strange power.

"How'd you do that?" "Do it again!" "Hail the dragon slayer!" "Are you dragonborn?" They say all at the same time.

"What's Dragonborn?" I grunt hopefully, "Does it mean I get to fight more dragons?"

Just then, a loud noise rattles the entire countryside, saying "Doh-Vah-Kiin," with a similar bang to my own shout.

"The Graybeards! They call you, the Dragonborn!" The leader says excitedly, "Please, allow us to escort you to the Throat of the World to meet them."

I shove him aside. I can find my way myself. And with that, I left to seek my destiny as this Dragonborn. Perhaps, this was what Mehrunes Dagon had in mind...

AND THE REST IS HISTORY...

Thrall Outline:

* After years of confusion and hazy memories

* Orc Grognut finds a ring of magic resistance

* Realises he's been under a spell for 3 years, a thrall of a necromancer

* Lies in wait and kills the necromancer

* Leaves their cave dwelling to seek Orcish Fort Fargut

* Does battle with beasts, and fights a dragon.

* Hears the call of the greybeards


	2. Age

Kind of a Joke story. I just think about how screwed the world would have been if some old man turned out to be the Dragonborn...

Dragonborn Origins: Age

You whippersnappers want to know my story? Okay!

My name is Barnaby, or Barnes for short. I'm 83 years old, long since retired from working at the mill. I live in the drab town of Morthal, a swampy place in the smack dab middle of Skyrim. Pretty much a horrid place.

Anyways, so one day I was making my way down to chat with the Jarl when that big lizard came flying out of nowhere. I, of course, was pretty amazed at the big thing. Though I've been kind of creaky recently, I immediately drew my war axe. Waving it above my head with both hands, I ran straight for the beast.

However, before I could get close, that big lug, Bulldo, was already bashing at the dragon's skull. I ran up just as he dug his knife into the dragon's skull. That show offish youngin was always beating bad beasties! Where's my turn?

As I got close, my legs crumpled from the exertion. I fell down, but watched as the dragon decayed in a big pile, burning up its own flesh. Bulldo didn't get away in time, and got burnt to a crisp. Good riddance, I say!

Suddenly, big white streams of energy shot out of the dragon, turning this way and that, like it was looking for something. I pulled myself to my feet and stared at the things. Suddenly, they flew straight at me. Before I could do anything, they shot right into my chest, rumbling around my body.

I fell down again, and struggled against the weird twitchy feeling in my arms and legs. I writhed on the ground for awhile, but then I was able to get up. I felt a lot better than I'd felt in a long time. I looked at my arms and found that they seemed thicker than normal, a lot stronger. The same with my legs. I didn't hurt all over anymore; and I could really breath for once! I realized that in the weird magic mumbo jumbo, I'd been given my health back. I was still my old sod of a self, but I could do things again!

I skipped up the road, enjoying being healthy, but then this big cough started rising through me. I let loose with a loud couple of coughs, then yelled a weird word I thought of.

"FUS!" I yelled.

Right as I did it, a Shout returned from the mountain to the south east.

"DOH VAH KIIN!"

Right then I remembered the legends of old, back from before the founding of the empire. I was a Dragonborn! I yelled in happiness, a grin spreading across my face. The Nine Divines had given me my health to serve as the Dragonborn of this era!

AND THE REST IS HISTORY...


	3. Legion

Dragonborn Origins: Legion

Silvia Scatterhorn sat down hard on a wooden bench beside the practice field. Sweat dripped off the end of her thin nose as she sheathed her sword and put down her shield. She removed her helmet, letting her dark hair fall down her back.

Some other soldiers left with a gaggle of noise, probably heading for the inn for a night of relaxation. It had been a tough day of training, but now, as the sun began to touch the horizon, it was quitting time for the day. Silvia pushed her bangs aside, and looked up right into the face of a large High Elf.

"Had enough, woman?" Legate Tovar sneered as he approached from behind her.

Turning to face him, Silvia frowned stiffly and replied, "What do you want now? Did you get tired of eating sweet rolls all day? Or do they actually do things at the Thalmor embassy now?"

Tovar grimaced, sucking in the belly bulge behind his armor. "Just thought I'd check up on our little woman captain. After all, they say you Imperial women are a pampered lot," he smiled menacingly.

"Compared to whom? Because I can certainly outdo any 'Low Elf' in Skyrim." Silvia stood up, gathered her things and began to walk away, tired of the Thalmor's games.

"Low Elf? Your disrespectful sack of skin! Come back here!" Tovar shrieked as he ran to catch up.

Silvia stopped and turned, "Want to scrimmage then? Want to prove your worth?

Tovar cast aside his cloak, baring his glistening armor and toned arms, "Surely one match couldn't hurt," he scoffed as he pulled his sword from its scabbard. Without any warning, he charged.

Silvia quickly grabbed her shield, dropping my helmet aside. Her Imperial short sword clanged as she ripped it from its scabbard. A thud resounded as Silvia blocked Tovar's strike and twisted around him.

As she passed, Silvia slammed her metal shield into Tovar's back, knocking him off his feet. "Dead." She said bluntly, tapping her sword to his back.

Tovar leaped to his feet and struck out with an uppercut strike. Silvia dodged the blow by backing up a few feet.

"Get back here!" Tovar shrieked. He pushed toward her with a flurry of blows. Silvia tried to block and juke to avoid the hits, but a stray swipe cut into her hip.

Tovar squealed with glee and stabbed forward, "Dead!" He cried, expecting a hit. However, Silvia swung her sword, knocking his aside and, due to Tovar's bad grip, flung the sword away. Silvia tapped her sword to Tovar's chest.

"Dead." Silvia shook her head, "You're not even close, Tovar!"

"You b****!" Tovar grumbled, as he picked up his sword.

"I told you, I can outfight any Altmer in the realm. You Thalmor especially." Silvia walked away, leaving Tovar grumbling and raging.

—Legion—

A short time later, Silvia arrived back at her home in Solitude. It was a small place, only a cottage really. She owned the top floor of a small building on the outskirts of the city.

The stone structure was kind of lonely and drab, but it was an alright place to live. At least there were no other people who wanted to live this far out, so no one bugged Silvia at home.

Cresting the outdoor stairs, she rubbed her hip where Tovar had scored a hit. The cut had begun to bleed a bit, and Silvia was not looking forward to repairing her tunic again. She pulled out her key and went inside her home.

It was a fairly sparse home, with little more than a few small cupboards and a bed. Silvia's pride and joy, her set of metal Imperial Armor on a manikin, sat in the corner. She only used that armor when she went to battle, so it was clean and rarely covered in sweat, unlike her current clothes.

Silvia went to her washbasin and splashed some water on her face. She quickly undressed from her leather training armor, washed the sweat and blood from her body, bandaged her small wound, then put on a new tunic.

That night was a special occasion. Silvia was going to see a performance by the Bards' College, a play about the Oblivion Crisis and the always mischievous Mehrunes Dagon.

Strapping on her sword, Silvia turned to look in her large mirror, a small luxury in those days. She allowed herself a smile as she looked at her reflection, proud of her fair beauty despite her occupation. Silvia was normally not partial to dressing in a feminine style, but she put on a thin bracelet and a metal headband anyway, as she felt it a special occasion.

The walk to the Bard's college was short, but it gave Silvia enough time to think.

She was worried about the Imperial Legion: the empire was becoming subject to the Thalmor, and it showed within the Legion. After all, Tovar, an incompetent Thalmor, was a commissioned officer, while she herself was barely considered an officer, despite her abilities.

She had once considered leaving the Legion, a few years ago, and once again considered it. "After all," she thought, "it is better to abandon ship before it is mostly sunken." However, such thoughts could get her severely punished for treason, so she pushed it from her mind once again.

As she neared the stage, Silvia saw a pair of Imperial soldiers, two High Elves, hanging around with the women. Pretty quickly, Silvia identified them as Legate Tovar's mer.

"Legionaires, why are you away from your posts?" she called, "You are supposed to be guarding the armory tonight." One of them glared at her, then turned back to flirting with a woman. Silvia quickly approached them and grabbed one of them by the arm.

Suddenly, she was slapped across the face by one of the Altmer. Her cheek stung as she shuffled back. Glancing up just in time, Silvia ducked to the left as a fist flew by.

"You'll be in the stockade for that for sure," Silvia grumbled. With a quick strike to the temple, the first Altmer was incapacitated. He fell in a heap, not even a bruise adorning his head.

"Holy Draugr!" The second one quickly put his fists down, and raised his arms to show he was surrendering.

"Alright, you idiots. Take your friend there and guard the armory," Silvia indicated the unconscious elf, "And report to Tovar immediately tomorrow morning to take your licks." Silvia coughed and rubbed her cheek where she'd been hit, then called, "Straighten up, soldiers!" in addition.

"Why am I always the one in these situations..." She grumbled. Silvia wasn't much in the mood for the theatre anymore, so she decided to skip the play and go home to rest.

—Legion—

The next morning, Silvia rolled out of bed shortly after dawn, yawning and scrunching her green eyes as the light hit them. A faint sound came from outside, catching her attention.

She looked out the window, hiding her underdressed body behind the wall as she peered out. A small cloud of dust spun by the road from Solitude Keep, a contingent of soldiers marching in unison. Silvia wondered for a moment why they would be out so early, and why all the way out here. Unless...

Sensing that something was up, Silvia quickly dressed in a tunic and a pair of pants. She packed her Imperial Steel Armor in a pack and grabbed her favorite sword to take with her.

As soon as she'd finished, a knock came from her front door. The soldiers were here! Silvia scrambled to her door and pulled it open.

Captain Tullius, one of Silvia's fellow officers, stood at the door, flanked by 10 legionnaires. "I'm sorry, Silvia, but you are under arrest for insubordination and assaulting an officer. Take her to the HQ, soldiers!" Dodvar barked reluctantly.

Silvia shook her head, "By whose order?"

"General Tovar," Tullius responded. His men surrounded Silvia as she voluntarily stepped from her home.

"General?" Silvia was bewildered, "Since when?"

"Since General Brigdon was killed last night." He huffed, "Suicide, apparently. Found with a knife though his gullet and a suicide note dictating Tovar be promoted."

"Sounds faked, but okay," Silvia commented rashly, "I will come." Tullius nodded, and grabbed her by the arm to guide her down out of her house.

Silvia walked with the soldiers into the city and to the headquarters of the Imperial Legion, passing by various contingents of soldiers heading for the fields to train. Silvia was glad to see her cohort dutifully marching out to training, despite their lack of a captain.

The Legion Headquarters was a pretty impressive building. Made of hewn stone, it towered above them, surrounding them with its great stone pillars and thick walls.

Silvia shivered. The hall was cold, unforgiving. What was usually a welcome air of discipline now felt like the scent of danger. With Tovar in control of the Legion, the Empire itself was in some danger.

Legate Tullius dismissed the other soldiers at the entrance, personally escorting Silvia into the building. They wound through a few hallways until they reached a pair of large wooden doors.

"Remember, this is a court martial, not a battle," Tullius advised, "Argue fairly, keep yourself in check, and things will turn out alright." Silvia slid her arm gently, but firmly, from Tullius's grip and pushed open the doors to the courtroom.

Tovar sat in the judge's seat, and a great grin crossed his face as Silvia entered. It was, of course, illegal for the judge and the accuser to be the same person, but Silvia knew that many such rules were entirely out the window now. Surrounding the court sat over a hundred Thalmor, as indicated by their dark robes. Silvia took the defendant's seat and drilled holes into General Tovar with her glare.

"The Court Martial of Silvia Scatterhorn will now commence," the prosecutor announced to no one in particular, "Silvia stands accused of treason of the highest order against the Empire: assaulting her commanding officer, and physical abuse of Imperial Soldiers."

Silvia's eyes widened. This was far beyond what she had expected. Tovar was actually willing to go this far to prove a point!

The prosecutor continued, "First, we will hear from a witness to the crimes, General Tovar the Stout." Silvia barely stopped herself from snorting. Tovar was known for his size alright!

Tovar stood and spread his arms wide, clearly in his element here before the assembly. "I myself was assaulted by the defendant, Captain Scatterhorn, just yesterday. I still bear the scars and bruises of her onslaught. Though I was able to rebuff her assault, her words to me spoke of a homicidal desire."

Silvia leaped to her feet, "Tovar lies! He challenged me to a practice bout, then lost. I have a wound to prove his attacks!" She quickly pulled aside her tunic, displaying her bandaged hip.

"Silence! We will not have women pulling off their clothes in this court martial!" Tovar screamed, jumping to his feet, "Sit down, or else I'll have to hold you in contempt of court!" Tovar's face was bright red, having obviously forgotten he had wounded Silvia. "Besides, that wound was given as I defended myself, nothing more."

"Clearly, we've established that the defendant and the General indeed fought," The prosecutor piped up, "I see no reason to doubt the crime of assault." Tovar nodded. Silvia's eyes widened as she saw their strategy: a savage claim, no evidence, but no time for her to defend herself.

Silvia stood once again, "May the defense speak?" was all she said, holding in her anger.

Tovar thought about it, then nodded.

Silvia glared at everyone in the room, "You have proven nothing, except that Tovar attacked me. Let us see his wounds, if they even exist."

Tovar hammed it up as he stood, "I already told you, she was utterly unable to harm me. Obviously, no High Elf worth his salt would take even a single hit from an Imperial, much less a woman." His sneer grew with each word, "Besides, the real issue here is the Captain's abuse of Imperial Troops."

Silvia swore under her breath. Tovar had caught on, and was sending the debate away from his horribly backed assault claim.

Silvia spoke first this time, "May I explain the events I presume your claims are based on?" The prosecutor nodded his assent.

"Last night, I intended to attend the Bard's College production. When I arrived, I found two Altmer, "General Tovar's" men, away from their post at the armory." Silvia began, "They were flirting with the women there, and I went to reprimand them, as is my duty. When I approached, I was assaulted by the one. After I dispatched the foolish Mer with a single strike, I commanded his cohort to take him and return to the armory," Silvia finished simply, "That is all that occurred. Take it or leave it, but every man and Mer there can corroborate my story. I dare every one of you to find any fault with my story. Or to find any truth in Tovar's lie he prepares as we speak."

The impact of her words, and the sharpness of her stare, silenced the crowd. Tovar quaked in his boots. Silvia stood, and stared at the prosecutor, "Anything else, sir?"

—Legion—

An hour later, the formalities of the trial finally ended. Tullius escorted her out again, this time without his men. They walked a ways in silence, thinking of the acquittal Silvia had managed to pull off.

"What was that?!" He suddenly blurted out, "The Thalmor already hate us enough. Now they have an even greater reason to destroy the empire!" Tullius grabbed Silvia by the arm, "Mark my words, no good will come of this!"

Silvia yanked her arm from Tullius's grasp, shoving him away. "I will not cave to the whims of Mer who can barely lift a sword in their own defense!" She growled.

Tullius stood fast before her insult, "Says the woman injured by Tovar! They are too strong for us to break!"

"You are no man, to quake before the Aldmeri as you do. No Imperial soldier I know would ever act as such. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a cohort of real soldiers to train." Silvia stomped away, angrily pulling her pack around to her front as she went.

—Legion—

Three weeks later, Silvia found herself in full battle gear, tromping through the wilderness with her cohort, on the heels of Tovar and his small entourage of dark robed Thalmor, all mounted. Her legionnaires walked on foot right behind in two columns. The "general" had decided to keep a closer eye on Silvia, so he had ordered her to let him come along on the raid. Normally, such a raid would be solely her job, but Tovar obviously just wanted to babysit her.

They were tracking a band of Stormcloaks, led by a man named Feran the Bold. Word was they'd been harassing the local villages, raiding them for supplies. Feran was famous among the Legion for his guerilla tactics, and his team of crossbowmen. They crested the final hill, and found the Stormcloak camp, right where Silvia knew it would be.

Tovar gasped, "How dare you let those Nords camp this close to Solitude!" He blamed. It was actually closer to Markarth, but Silvia held her tongue... sort of.

"Shut up, Tovar," Silvia snapped, "Besides, it's a small force. We'll wipe the floor with them and be home by dusk." After all, she thought, we outnumber them three to one, and we have the element of surprise. Silvia slid down off the back of her horse, a blond, hardy Nord-bred mare. Her men gathered around, waiting for her orders, as usual.

Suddenly, Tovar yelled to the soldiers, "Alright men, this is it. Time to crush the rebellion once again! Strike fast, hit hard, honor the empire! Charge!" Tovar lifted his sword and began the charge down the hill. The Thalmor brigade followed hot on his heels.

Silvia glanced up, surprised. Tovar was making a horrible move! She was happy to see that none of her men had joined the suicidal charge.

"That idiot! He's ruined our surprise, and he's gonna get all his men killed!" Silvia growled, "Come on, men! Might as well join the fray. I can't afford another court martial for letting General Tovar kill himself." Silvia quickly gave orders for half the cohort to attack from the left flank, then led the other half to the right flank.

Already it had the makings of a blood bath. As Silvia hit the rise, she watched with a grimace as multiple Thalmor fell from their horses, each struck in the chest by a crossbow bolt. The remaining Thalmor, including Tovar, smashed into and knocked aside many of the Stormcloaks.

Silvia and her half cohort attacked from the flank, and began to battle toe to toe. Silvia began battling with a mustached Nord who wielded a broadsword, blocking her strikes with the edge of his guard. Silvia managed to block his overhead swing with her shield, and drove her sword between his ribs. Silvia carved her way to the center of the camp with a handful of men. She strained to pick out Feran from among the crowd.

All around, carnage ensued, largely the bodies of the Thalmor, who were still riding around, despite the fact that it made them easy targets for a stray bolt. Tovar was surprisingly holding his own against a pair of Stormcloaks wielding rapiers. Just as Silvia managed to spot the enemy commander Feran, a loud roar echoed between the mountains. Almost all the fighting stopped as every eye scanned the horizon.

Suddenly, a hulking white creature flashed into view, cresting the mountains on its large wings. The dragon dove down and landed right in the middle of the action. Silvia swore loudly. There were no dragons in Skyrim, at least not in the last thousand or so years! Shouts of fright echoed through the hills as every Man and Mer ran for cover. Silvia ran and joined a few of her men behind a Stormcloak tent. It wouldn't provide much cover, but it hid them from the beast.

"YOR-TOR-SHUL!" The great white dragon spoke in a loud commanding voice. As the last syllable left its maw, a pillar of fire followed, roasting several of Tovar's men. Silvia and three of her soldiers make a mad dash for some stone ruins to get some cover. "How are we going to survive this?" Silvia thought as she dove behind a pillar.

The whole of the Stormcloak company had wisely taken refuge in the same ruin. A pair of Nord Stormcloaks were arguing about the dragon.

"This can't be a dragon. They're nothing but a legend!" One shouted.

"Legends don't roast men in an instant." The other replied.

Silvia butted in, "Do your Nord legends have anything on how to kill them?" The Stormcloaks turned, surprised to see a relatively friendly Imperial.

"There are many legends, but they only speak of great heroes, the Dragonborn, slaying dragons," The first one said.

"They are mortal though, so we can kill it by sword and arrow. It will just be difficult," The other added.

"Okay, tell Feran I'm calling a truce until this thing's gone," Silvia ordered, "And have any man who wishes to fight shoot at it, keeping their distance. We don't need more deaths today."

She ran off, quickly telling as many people as possible about her plan. The bulk of her troops were within the ruins, so Silvia quickly organized them to fire waves of arrows upon the beast.

Casting her eyes back toward the great white dragon, Silvia saw Tovar and a few of his remaining elves taking on the dragon head to head. The dragon ruthlessly bit a Thalmor in half as Silvia watched. It was quick, too quick. It batted Tovar away with a wing as the elf tried to strike. Silvia had no love for the General, but she still didn't want to see him die.

"Aim, and Fire!" Feran called from across the ruins. A stream of bolts flew straight into the dragon's side, then a series of arcing arrows struck from above. The projectiles clinked against its scales, mostly bouncing right off, but a few found their mark in the chinks of the dragon's armor. The dragon roared in surprise. It took to the air, knocking aside Tovar and his two living Mer.

Recognizing the opportunity, Silvia dashed from cover, crouched in the snow, and fired a shot from her steel bow. The arrow tore through the air, then ripped into the skin stretched out between the parts of the dragon's right wing. The dragon twisted its wing, growling in pain. The action disrupted its flight, causing it to dip from the height it had tried to lift to. Another wave of bolts and arrows struck the dragon as it struggled to generate lift. Silvia nocked another arrow, and shot true, right through the same wing, causing a large rip to appear between the holes.

The dragon fell from the sky, flailing and roaring as it struggled to maintain altitude with its single whole wing. A resounding thump echoed through the mountains as the dragon landed, far harder than before. The dragon climbed to its feet, blood dripping from its torn wing and stared right at Silvia. It was at that moment that Silvia saw her mistake.

"YOR..." The Dragon began to shout. Silvia's life flashed before her eyes, all her successes and failures, the court martial, her life in the Legion, and training her soldiers. She knew this was was going to die, bravely though foolishly, in battle.

*Twing* A crossbow bolt flashed past Silvia as the dragon began to say the second word. The bolt hit the dragon right in the mouth, causing it to writhe in pain. Silvia glanced up and found Feran, the enemy captain, at her side. The two quickly skirted back to cover in the ruins.

"Sweet shots, madam, but you forgot the fire breath! We've got to be careful, a cornered beast is even more dangerous," Feran jeered with a grin as they crouched behind the same pillar.

"At least we've grounded it," Silvia replied, "Arrows don't do much, and it's too quick for melee combat. We need a new plan."

Feran nodded, "Magic works where other things don't. I have a few men with some ability."

Silvia thought for a second, "It's got too much plating for any destruction magic. And I doubt we'll be able to fool it, or conjure a powerful enough atronach to survive even a single breath." She noted.

"I suppose you are right," Feran admitted, "What do you suggest?"

"A series of skilled blows could take it down, but we can't afford to take it on too close. If we can manage to wear it out, it'll bleed out a bit and lose energy. Then we can end this." Silvia said plainly.

"Fair enough. Keep it busy, don't let it rest, and we can outlast it." Feran agreed. He signaled his men, and they spread the word to the combined force. Pretty quickly, all the soldiers around the ruins took up their bows and calmly walked out of the ruins.

Every man came out of cover, and spread out, dividing the dragon's attention. Each soldier fired freely, striking the dragon primarily in the neck and head. The dragon shook its head, scattering arrows that had stuck in its scales.

Silvia crept up around the back of the dragon's left wing, silently letting it focus on the bowmen. She accidentally brushed against the wing fibers of the dragon's wing as she passed by. Realizing her mistake, she dropped to the ground as the dragon whipped its head around to check its flank.

The great white neck passed inches from Silvia's wide eyes, but the dragon did not see her. As it turned back around, Silvia jammed her shortsword into the underside of the dragon's throat.

The dragon roared in pain. Blood cascaded out, all over Silvia. The underside of its throats was only thinly scaled, so the knife dug in easily. As the dragon flipped its neck upward, Silvia slipped out from underneath, scrambling away as quickly as she could.

Without warning, the dragon struck like a snake, biting right at Silvia! She managed to leap mostly out of the way, but a fang carved a line down her thigh, lacerating the flesh.

Silvia cried out in pain, and quickly hobbled into cover behind her men. Before she knew what was going on, Feran was once again at her side with bandages. "Are you alright?" He asked, worried by all the blood.

"I'm fine," Silvia growled, "Just give us a minute. It's done for."

Feran flipped around and saw the dragon lashing out in every direction. Silvia grimaced as she explained, "All the flailing about is making it bleed out faster. Look," she pointed weakly.

The dragon had fallen to the ground, gasping for air, as the torrent of blood from its neck began to slow. With a final roar, it fell to the ground, dead.

"Nothing to it," Silvia said as she pulled herself to her feet.

"What are you doing?" Feran asked, "You're going to make yourself worse."

"My destiny..." Silvia mumbled with a knowing look in her eye. She approached the dragon, which the other soldiers were carefully milling toward.

As she came within a few feet, the corpse burst into flame! Everyone leaped back, except Silvia. She continued to stand in place as the flesh and sinew burned away, leaving nothing but a giant skeleton where the great dragon had been. There was a sound like the rushing of wind through the trees as white tendrils of light flew straight into Silvia's body. Those attentive could see her injuries sealing themselves up as her eyes blazed with light and knowledge.

As quickly as it began, the strange occurrence ended. Silvia was there, alone, next to a gigantic Dragon Skeleton.

"What the he..." Feran began, before a sword tip exited his chest with a sickening twing. The man fell, revealing everyone's least favorite elf, General Tovar. Every single Stormcloak soldier pulled their swords, ready to kill the Elf.

"What the h %%, Tovar?" Silvia shouted, stopping the riot she knew might happen.

The Thalmor sneered, "Excuse me, I thought we were fighting a war here. I killed the enemy commander."

"Can we at least take a moment to appreciate our feat? No, you had to make this a political thing again," Silvia stared holes in Tovar's face, "I'm the commanding officer here, and I called a truce. My operation, my rules. I hereby strip you of your command. You will report to me tomorrow morning for a court martial. No, scratch that. Report to General Tullius!"

"General Tullius? What right do you have to strip me of my position and give it to that bald idiot?" Tovar raged, "You don't even command this company!"

Silvia drew her sword, tarnished with StormCloak and Dragon Blood, "On my right in this province as the Dragonborn. And as an officer of the Imperial Legion, I officially disown you as a part of this army." She took off her helmet and tossed it aside.

"Dragonborn!? What the h %% is that supposed to mean?" Tovar screeched wide eyed. All of the StormCloak Soldiers perked up.

"You're the Dragonborn?" One asked.

"Of course not!" Another responded, "All the Dragonborn are Nords!"

"But she did the Dragonborn thing. She ate its soul!" A third piped up.

Silvia silenced the crowd, "I know now that I am Dragonborn. That makes me worthy of Nordic respect."

"You b*tch, you're no hero of legend! The Thalmor spit upon you Imperials, and I swear by the Aldmeri Dominion you won't see the dusk!" Tovar screamed, and whipped out his sword, tossing his helmet and shield aside.

"Didn't you learn anything from last time?" Silvia scoffed, "Does the little low elf want another beating?"

The crowd scattered as Tovar charged, enraged at another "Low Elf" comment. He swung at Silvia, narrowly missing her arm. Silvia sidestepped away and twisted her shield into place on her arm.

Tovar stepped back as Silvia jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. He backed up and seemed to be focusing. Suddenly, he hurled a spike of ice, striking Silvia in the thigh. She gasped in pain, but mostly because it was sapping her strength. She glared at the elf, then grinned mischievously.

A wave of energy, beginning from her core, spread around her body, shattering the ice, and finally combined into a loud cry. "FUS!" She shouted, sending a wave of force at the idiot elf.

Tovar stumbled back, gaping. He tripped and fell, smacking into the snow. Silvia took the opportunity and ran to stand over him with her sword in his face.

"Ready to surrender?" She mused. It was far too easy to defeat the elf when he was tired.

Tovar kicked at her shin, rolling to his feet, "Death first!" He gasped.

"I have very few qualms about killing you, and the last of them are gone,"

"Not a problem if I kill you first!"

Silvia batted the elf's sword aside as he attacked again and again. She was almost bored. "FUS!" She roared, knocking Tovar back again.

As he rose to his feet, Silvia grabbed up Feran's crossbow, an ornate piece of woodwork, covered in dark varnish. Obviously, Feran had cherished his weapon of choice. Tovar stood in a battle stance, ready for another bout. Silvia never gave him the chance. With a superhuman move, Silvia dashed across the snow, knocking the elf down again with her elbow.

She then fired the crossbow right between the eyes, ending Tovar's life in an instant.

"Dead."

Silvia stepped away, placing the crossbow on Feran's corpse. As she wrapped his hands around the weapon, the groups of soldiers appeared at her back.

When she sensed them, Silvia stood and spoke, looking over the remains of the three battles, "I can no longer support an empire that bows to Mer like that," Silvia pointed to Tovar, "But I'm not going to support the very faction that hates my kind either." She noted the 2 remaining Aldmeri Agents, dressed in their black robes, "All who wish to join me, my life lies in killing these d*mn dragons."

"DO-VAH-KIIN," A chorus of voices shouted from the mountains.

"And there, right on cue, are the people who will tell us how to do it. Who's in?"

Everyone of Silvia's remaining soldiers tore the Imperial patches from their armor, a commitment to desert the Legion. Multiple StormCloaks did the same, removing the bear heads that adorned their breastplates. The pair of Thalmor silently moved away, obviously to report back to their superiors. The remaining Stormcloaks also left, looking around to rebuild their camp.

Silvia looked over her new army, her Dragon Slayers extraordinaire, and began the trek to the Throat of The World.

AND THE REST IS HISTORY...


	4. Sellsword

Dragonborn Origins: Sellsword

My name is Pamir. I am a Redguard woman from Hammerfell, not that you'd know me as such. I am unique among the Redguards, as I am a woman warrior. Not too many of us exist, seeing that the men do much of the fighting in Hammerfell. Due to some events beyond my control, I was shamed and banished from my country. This is why I hide. If any Redguard were to find me, they would be honor bound to kill me. Of course, no one would succeed, but I still hide. I now live in Whiterun, in the northern province of Skyrim.

My story begins one day as I prepared to go out. You see, I regularly play the parts of Pazir the sellsword, and his dutiful wife, Myrna. I have become a fair master of disguise, using makeup and other materials to appear to be a different woman. I also use a set of padded armor to appear to be a man, Pazir the mercenary.

Anyways, as I was preparing to go out as Myrna, I heard a strange sound. It was like the scraping of metal, almost as if a gigantic sword was being sharpened. It also reminded me of a roar, as if a great beast were in fierce battle. I slowly dressed in a town dress and feminine boots, and went outside to investigate.

Going to the market here in Whiterun, I heard the murmurs of people discussing the noise. Some said the word "dragon", but everyone else shut that man up. I entered the market, carrying a basket, as was my custom. I quickly shopped and grabbed what I needed for the day, then stopped to chat with Belethor, the local odds-and-ends shop owner.

"How are you today, Myrna?" The Nord said with a wink. He knew my secret ever since I'd begun this charade. It was useful to have someone in town as my confidant, so I'd allowed him to figure it out. Besides, the man has somewhat of a reputation as untrustworthy, so he'd never be able to reveal my secret successfully.

"So what's the spiel with the metallic roar?" I asked immediately.

Belethor put down the small trinket he was examining, and, with a touch of rare honesty, said "I'm not sure."

"Some of the townsfolk were talking about dragons. I thought they were just a legend."

Belethor scratched his chin, "I'd considered that, but like you said, they're a legend," His eyes brightened, "But they did exist at one point, so it is a possibility. In fact, I wouldn't be too surprised if Ol' Balgruuf put out a reward for info on such rumors."

"Anyways, have you sharpened Pazir's sword yet?" I asked straight-faced.

"Ah yes," Belethor mumbled, turning aside. He went into his back room and came back with a long wrapped package. Placing it on the counter, he untied a few strings, and out came Windshear, my sword. The long curved blade glistened in the sunlight as Belethor gave it one last examination. It was a one-of-a-kind weapon, one of the last remnants of my life in Hammerfell. I'd been happy to find it a few months ago while I'd been exploring some ruins to attack a bandit clan.

"Thank you, Belethor. I'm sure my husband will be quite happy to have his sword back," I gratefully smiled.

"You Redguards and your curved swords," Belethor grinned, "Need anything else, milady?"

"If you've got a good steel knife, Pazir could use another," I put forth. I'd accidentally broken my knife a few days before, trying to remove it from a draugr's skull.

"You're in luck, I've got an elven dagger with his name on it," Belethor reached under the counter and pulled out a green handled knife in a small scabbard.

I handed him some money, and took the weapon out. It was a beautiful piece, covered in runic script and sharp as a razor. "Pazir will be pleased," I complimented, "Pleasure doing business with you, sir." I curtsied politely and made my exit.

Carrying both items carefully atop my basket, I scrambled back home. If there was going to be a job from the Jarl himself, Pazir needed to be there first to get it. Otherwise, those d*** Companions would swipe it away.

I hated the Companions. That idiot Vilkas somehow convinced them to bar me from joining them. I'd never thought Nords could be so intolerant. Hence the disguises, and the subterfuge. Despite the hate from the Companions, Pazir has become almost as respected as all the Companions combined.

I slipped inside my home, a fair sized indescript cottage in a corner of the city. I'd won the right to buy it as a prize for stopping a bandit clan last winter. My home had always been a bit sparse, as I'd never been much of a homemaker. I much preferred the wilds, but it was nice to have a roof over my head sometimes. I did have a table, a few chairs, a range, and a brick oven I'd built. My pride and joy, my set of padded leather armor, sat on a solitary manikin in the main room.

I placed the weapons on my dining table and darted up the stairs. Fortunately, I'd gotten very good at disguising myself, so the process went quickly. I wrapped my long black hair up in a turban, taking care that it was wrapped just right. Then I put on a specially made magic amulet so I'd sound male when I spoke. I used a special paste that Belethor makes to fasten on a false beard. I used a spell I'd picked up to change my eye color from auburn to deep blue, an idea I'd come up with as an extra precaution.

I hurried downstairs and slipped on my armor, securing the straps around my waist with quick tugs. My sword slipped into its sheath with a slight scraping noise, and I attached the new dagger to my belt with a leather strap. After checking my appearance in the mirror, I opened the door, stepping out into the world as Pazir the mercenary.

-SS-

I climbed the stairs to the Cloud district, taking them 2 at a time, until I reached the palace called Dragonreach. It was an impressive wood and stone structure, reportedly originally designed as a fortress against the dragons. I nodded to the guards standing watch as I passed, and they nodded back. I was well known in town, so I was never given trouble when I came to call at the castle.

Entering brought the great doors, I found Balgruuf sitting on his throne. He was talking to a frantic man in an unusual combination of Imperial and Stormcloak armor. I listened in as I approached.

"I swear, it was a dragon! A great big black one! It roasted every single man, woman and child at Helgen!" The man pleaded, "Please, we need troops to protect Riverwood!"

Proventus, Balgruuf's adviser, spoke up, "Most Honorable Jarl, we can't afford to supply even weapons to Riverwood. It would..."

Balgruuf silenced him, "I know the risks, Proventus. However, I place the safety of my citizens over a risk of war. What use are war axes if we don't use them against attackers?"

A dark skinned woman, a Dark Elf in fact, spoke up, "Shall I gather a cohort to prepare to march?" She was Irelith, Balgruuf's housecarl, and a formidable warrior in her own right. Sometimes I wondered why I hid, if a Dunmer woman could find honor in Skyrim, maybe I could as well...

I cast the thought aside as Balgruuf nodded his permission. I approached the Jarl as Irelith began to depart.

"Ah, Pazir, my friend, how are you?" Balgruuf welcomed, "Looking for work again?"

"Always, my Jarl," I spoke in a voice well deeper than my own, "I hear there are dragons in Skyrim now."

"Yes," Balgruuf nodded grimly, "The village of Helgen is gone, as you may have heard."

I nodded back. I'd done some jobs near Helgen in the past, so I knew it well. "Word is you could use my services," I added.

"Not unless you know how to protect us from dragons,"

"There's more than one?" I was legitimately surprised.

"Reports have come in from all over. A wide variety of dragons have appeared," Balgruuf grimly shook his head, "I'd like to put out a bounty on one, to see what we can learn, but I'm liable to get my best warriors killed that way."

"I will take on the task. I'll can even return with some defense ideas for the city."

Balgruuf laughed heartily, "Pazir, you dog. You always know how to get a job out of me. I'll bite. You bring me a dragon horn and the location of the rest of it, and I'll pay you handsomely."

With a nod and a sly smile, I turned on my heel and began to leave. This had worked out even better than I'd hoped. If there were many dragons, I'd have a lot less trouble finding one to kill. A bit of research, a fair fight, and I'd be showered with gifts once again.

As I went to leave, Farengar, the Jarl's court wizard, stopped me. "Hey Pazir, I have a question," he called.

I sighed deeply. Farengar was always trying to figure me out, in one way or another. For one reason or another, I don't think he trusted a Redguard to do the Jarl's work. I turned from my course, and entered the wizard's workroom.

"What do you need?" I asked, as politely as I could.

"I just wanted to ask about your amulet again," Farengar smiled, "It seems a special thing, what with you wearing it constantly."

Inwardly I groaned, but responded gruffly, "I told you before, it is a family heirloom. Whether it has magic like you say, or not, I'm not letting you have it." I put my foot down with that, turned and strode out of the laboratory. Farengar called something after me, but I ignored him and left quickly.

-SS-

Once back at my home, I gathered up some traveling supplies: rations, some potions, soul gems, some spell scrolls for emergencies, and a skin full of water. It was going to be a long journey to Winterhold, but the Arcaenum there was my best bet at finding one of the dragons. Besides, traveling a wide swath across the province would give me a larger chance at coming across one in the wilds.

Before I left, I went to the back of my wardrobe and grabbed a folded up package from inside. It was my second set of armor, made of polished crystal often called "Glass" up here in the primitive north. It had always been a bit of a joke to me, the whole Glass material thing. Clearly, glass was far too brittle and would never hold up to being used in weapons and armor, so I've never been sure why Nords used the term. But I digress.

I'd never actually used this armor before, as it was built for a woman. It was a "gift" of sorts for Myrna from Pazir, or at least that's how I explained it to the local blacksmiths. In truth, I'd gathered the materials and had it made so that, if I ever got over my fear and shame, I'd have the gear to act the part of the female warrior I truly am. Anyways, so I grabbed the armor and packed it with my other things. In some form or another, I knew it'd prove useful.

After a quick glance around the room, I closed up my things, grabbed my saddle, shut the front door of my home and locked things up. It was time to to go.

-SS-

Outside the walls of Whiterun lays great fields, built for farming and other such practices. I set my eyes on a small building a short ways from the walls: The Whiterun Stables.

"Heading out into the wide world again so soon?" A rotund man called as he came out a door in the building. I smiled a bit to myself. It was Billo the Bulged, the owner.

"Are you losing your memory?" I joked, "I haven't had a job that required my horse in over a month!" I grinned.

"Ah yes, I remember. That Gildergreen job! I believe you had to kill some forest spirits and cut down a tree right?"

A tad surprised at his memory, I nodded, "I still don't get the significance of that tree..." I commented, "How's Soilstrider doing?" I asked.

"Pretty well, actually," Billo grinned and winked, "A product of my great care, of course!"

"Well done," I pulled a purse of coin from my pocket, "My payment for this month and next. Keep up the good work!" I tossed the fat man the coin purse and went to find my steed.

Soilstrider was and still is the color of dirt. She doesn't look like much, but she is the most reliable horse I've ever owned. The horses of Skyrim are a hardy bunch, and Strider has never been an exception. I rubbed her nose as I approached, looking her coat over for signs of sickness. Thanks to Billo, there were none, so I saddled her up and place my belongings, including the Glass Armor, into her saddlebags. With a small hop, I threw my left leg over the saddle and lifted myself up onto my horse.

"See you later, Pazir! Have a good trip!" Billo waved.

"Hup!" I patted Soilstrider's neck, and she started to trot away. I nodded to Billo, and we were off.

-SS-

I rode across the plains for a long while, heading in a northeast direction. I admired the hardworking farmers in their fields; I'd never wanted to do the work, but it was probably very fulfilling for them. Mine was a harder work in many respects, but these men and women never got a day off, unlike me.

I also began to see the giants and mammoths of the region as I got farther out. I even saw the Companions battling a giant that seemed to have torn a farmer's cornfield to shreds. Those fools! I watched one of them, Farkas I think, taking the giant head on like only an idiot would. That of course, got me thinking about how much I hate the Companions!

I suppose at this point I should explain my dislike of the Companions at this point. You see, when I was thrown out of Hammerfell, I went looking for work, and found out about the Companions. I was told that they were the noblest of the warriors in Skyrim, and would gladly take in a strong arm. Now, this was before I began the whole Pazir charade.

Anyways, I showed up at Jorrvaskr, their home/mead hall, hoping for a new life, but I was immediately shooed away because of my size. Sure, I am shorter than many Nords, but they didn't even give me a second look over!

That first rejection was what really sent me to disguising myself. If they wouldn't take me as I was, I would have to show them up! And I have! The Jarl almost always calls for my assistance over them.

All at once, I was shaken from my revelry by a loud noise. It sounded like scraping metal and roaring trolls. The same noise! A huge shadow tore across the plains, and a huge shape thumped into the ground. As I gathered my senses, I examined the dragon.

It was definitely serpentine, but had jutting grey scales in every direction. It looked like it could impale a man on those spikes! I turned east a bit, calming Soilstrider with strokes of my hand. The dragon was striking at a mammoth with its tail and teeth. It had a really long tail, with a nub of scaly bone on the end that it was using like a club. One of the shepard Giants ran at the beast, attacking with a wooden club. The great grey lizard struck with a bite, and tore flesh from the giant's side. It was really fast! The giant fell back, clutching its side. The dragon stomped one of its great taloned on top of the giant, and there was a sickening crunch. The giant lay dead.

In a burst, I realized I'd been far too hasty. These dragons weren't going to be easy to kill, or even maim. This one could kill me in seconds if it had its way. Lucky for me, the dragon grabbed the remains of the mammoth and began to fly away. I wasn't ready to confront one. No one was.

-SS-

A few hours later, I set up camp in a small mountain cave. I'd never been much for sleeping out in the cold, but I'd made myself proficient at it once I "moved" to Skyrim. It's a long way between each village in this frigid province, so camping out is often required.

I lit my small fire with a flint and a knife blade I'd held onto. The sparks dropped silently into the pile of twigs and lit them up. I quickly added more fuel to make a fair sized fire. I pulled a wrapped up sandwich from my pack and began to methodically eat. I thought about the battle I'd watched, and started strategizing.

I'd still need more information, but it seemed like the dragon would have to be knocked from the air before it could be killed. Its wings gave it too great of an advantage! I slammed the cloth back into my pack, angry that I had no plan. I finished my sandwich with a few quick bites and lay down on my bedroll. I needed to get to the College of Winterhold fast, or I'd be left behind, useless as a dragon consultant. That'd be a profitable job!

I lay down with my head toward the edge of the cave, so I'd get woken up early, near dawn. As I slipped into sleep, I once again let my thoughts wander toward my future. How long did I really want to keep up this charade? How long could Pazir last? Was there really any point in continuing to pretend to be this man? These were the thoughts that circled my mind as I drifted off to sleep...

-SS-

A rogue gust of wind whipped the corner of my turban from my head as I caught a glimpse of the great stone castle through the snow. I was near the city of Winterhold, a strangely small town on the edge of a cliff. Looming over it all was the College, the only place where magic and wizardry was accepted, let alone studied, in all of Skyrim. I pulled my headgear back in place, shielding my head from the bite of the cold once again.

Soilstrider, her brown hair wet and white from snow, shook her head as I pressed her sides to move on. We trotted through the town, seeing no one as we passed by the general store. I dismounted at the local stables and led Strider into the warmth of the hay and stalls. A young Bosmer boy came out and took her by the reins as I quickly turned and headed for the College.

I jogged along the path at a good pace, and finally reached the stone ramp up. Out of the darkness and snow, an Altmer woman in long robes appeared in a flash. I must have sighed pretty loudly, because her face twisted up in a scowl.

"What are you doing here, Redguard?"

"I'm here to clean the chamber pots," I growled, "Why do you think I'm here? I need information on magic!" I hated the stiff, stuck up Thalmor. They always seemed to be in my way. I loosened my dagger, just in case.

"First, you must prove you are worthy," She declared, acting like she had any say in my life.

"Trollsh*t!" I didn't need to deal with this crap again. "I'm going in, and you have no say in what I do."

"We shall see..." Suddenly, the Thalmor agent drew a long knife from her sleeve and struck towards me. Lucky for me, I'd already pulled my knife, so I deflected her strike with the side of my elven dagger.

With a cry, I shoved her back. She stumbled, but stayed on her feet. Her knife had went flying as she stumbled, so she pulled her sword out.

*Zzzzzing* I reveled in the noise my blade made as I drew it. Windshear, my favorite blade, would shed blood once again. I ritualistically stroked the back of the blade and began to chant an enchantment. I waited for her attack, holding my blade steady.

I could tell I'd unnerved her, because her first strike slipped by me without effort. I slashed down, scaring her into backing up. With a loud cry, I executed a jumping cleave, and cleaved into her left shoulder. She cried out in pain as her arm went limp, dropping her sword on the ground.

"Stand down. I don't want to have to hurt you more."

She shook her head and nodded. I placed my hand on her shoulder and healed it with a restoration spell. The Thalmor agent looked up.

"Why are you stopping people? Do the Thalmor have some vendetta against mages?" I asked harshly.

"A grandmaster in our order is visiting right now. He said for no one to be allowed to enter."

"Well, I'm going in anyways. Keep some snow packed on your shoulder, it'll help the inflammation."

Believe it or not, that kind of situation is pretty standard for me. I'm very good at scare tactics, and with Windshear, I have managed to scare opponents into surrender on more than one occasion. I also learned to be a fair healer so I wouldn't have to permanently maim anyone.

As I walked away, I slipped Windshear in its scabbard and held a Greater Soul Gem to it to recharge. Using my magical cleave move drained the charge a lot, so I always carried some soul gems. As it finished draining, the gem shattered into fragments, which I dropped.

I pulled my coat up against the snow again, and headed up the bridge. As I entered the college grounds, I was met with what can only be described as a buzz. The buzz of magic at work.

I stared at a series of globes of light floating around the courtyard. Immediately, I started glancing around, looking for the Mage casting them, but saw no one. I realized that there was a stream of energy in the center of the area, a flow of pure Magical energy!

"So that's how it works," I mumbled to myself, "The college has its own enchantments!"

"Learning something?" A voice came from ahead, "I took you for far more stuffy than that!"

Bewildered, I stared ahead at a door just ahead. I watched it close, as if someone just left it, and followed the voice, going through the door.

Inside was a large library, full of books. At a desk in the middle sat a fair sized Orc, reading a book. I glanced around, looking for who had called to me, and set my eyes on a young high elf trying to act non-chalant in one corner.

She was a pretty little thing, young looking, even for an elf. By the standards of man, she look to be about 12. Her blond hair hung loose in a well kept but simple style, with some hair in front of her shoulders, and the rest behind. As I approached, she looked at me and smiled.

"Hello, sir Redguard. How are you liking our college? Does it amaze you?" The elf whispered.

"It is quite unusual," I responded, "If you don't mind my asking, who are you?"

"Inquisitive, aren't we?" She teased, "My name is Ferrina Foxfoot. How can I be of service?"

"Well, I am looking for information on the dragons..." I grinned, amused.

"Those old things? Sure, we've got a book of all sorts of legends," She jokes

I changed my tone, realizing she was making fun of me, "I need information because they're back. Helgen was destroyed a week ago."

Her silly grin disappeared in an instant. "Really? Have you seen one!?"

Nodding, I replied, "It killed a giant with ease, then carried away an entire mammoth."

Ferrina got a really concerned look in her eyes. She fidgeted a bit, then decided to apologize, "I guess I shouldn't have made fun of you. You obviously know what you are doing."

"Well, all things considered, a book on the legends of dragons isn't too bad an idea. Where can I find one?"

Her face lit up with a smile, "Right here, actually!" She pulled a book from the shelf, which had a large silver dragon emblazoned on the front.

"Sweet!" I said, taking the book from her. I went and sat down at a table to read. Ferrina peered over my shoulder, reading along: "The Dragon War began in the First Era..."

-SS-

I scribbled one last note as I finished with a book. I stretched my back and arms, finally finished with my research. Ferrina looked up from a spell book she'd been reading, and grinned. She'd gotten bored about a half hour into my study, and had been studying some spell books from her pack for the rest of my two hour study session.

I'd found some useful information, though it had taken a lot of work. Despite the dragons being a major legend of the area, very few authors had anything of use. One key thing I found was repeated mentions of the creature's ability to attack vocally. Apparently, one could be killed by the dragon yelling at them! Additionally, they could breath fire and also ice. Clearly, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Ferrina glanced up from reading a Destruction book. "Finished?" She grinned, "Now we get to do the interesting stuff right?"

"If by interesting stuff you mean finding a dragon, most definitely," I smiled back, "You wanna come with me?"

"Of course I do! Why do you think I'm still here?" She slapped my arm playfully.

I glanced at a large ornate clock on the wall. It was well into the night already. "Okay, we'll head out tomorrow, bright and early." I gave her a pat on the shoulder and left to go and find a room to stay in for the night.

-SS-

I watched Ferrina shiver as we sat in the cold and the wind. We'd already traveled many miles in just our first day, and were now camped out for the night. I struck my flint with the knife blade repeatedly, but was having a hard time lighting a fire in the rushing wind. Suddenly, a tongue fire flew by my face, and the logs lit up instantly.

Glancing up, I saw that Ferrina was focusing some fire in her hand. "Magic is pretty useful, isn't it?" She grinned.

"That was awesome, thanks!" I smiled back, "You know, I still don't know anything about you... I usually try to know my allies better."

"I could say the same for you. Why are you even searching for a dragon?"

"Fair question. Initially, I was trying to kill one for money. I've got a good offer from the Jarl of Whiterun. But now it seems more like I'm being drawn to them for some other reason," I mused, "But what about you? Why are you so eager to help out?"

"Truthfully, I just wanted the adventure. My father makes me stay in all the time, trying to protect me. I want the chance to practice my magic, actually use it, not just practice on dummies."

"I guess we both want to escape our limits," I said to myself.

"Limits? What limits? You live the life!" Ferrina scoffed, "What could possibly be in your way?"

"I live a horrible life. I have to hide every day, or people wouldn't accept me..." I told myself.

"Does this have anything to do with the makeup and the women's armor you carry?" Ferrina asked. Obviously, she'd been paying attention.

"I've never had someone figure me out so quickly." I said, then removed my beard from my face, and the amulet from my neck. "My name is Pamir. I am a warrior banished from my homeland. I fear that no one would ever accept a woman warrior in this land," I said in my own voice.

Ferrina gaped, "I thought you had a secret girlfriend or something... Wow! You do hide a lot!"

"Surely, I am owed honesty in return. You are the daughter of the Thalmor Grandmaster, right?" I responded sharply.

"Yes, you are right," she said, "How'd you know?"

"What other high elves are at the College? You and a Thalmor Grandmaster are it," I stood, and grabbed my glass armor. I saw no reason to hide with Ferrina around, so I began to redress in my good armor.

"Why do you hide yourself? Women can gain respect the same as a man here."

"I told you, I was banished from my land and my order. If I were to appear in public, I would be in danger."

"Why are you afraid of anything? I saw what you did to that troll today, you're pretty much invincible!"

I had killed a frost troll easily that day, but that was beside the point. "The assassins who would attack me are as skilled, if not more, than myself."

"Yikes! No wonder you avoid showing your true face," she grimaced, "Should I be hanging out with you?"

"You don't need to worry too much, my enemies have no idea I'm in Skyrim, at least for now." I gripped her shoulder, and stared her in the eye, "Do you still want to follow me?"

She changed her tune right then, "Of course I do! I haven't had this much fun in years!"

"Years? How old are you? I can never tell with elves," I commented.

"I'm only 42, too young to leave home by my father's rules," She said sadly.

"That's old enough to be a mother by man's reckoning. I'm 27, and I've been on my own for nearly 10 years," I laughed, "The things you learn by talking to an elf!"

We laughed and chatted together until night had fully fallen, huddling together for warmth. Ferrina laid her head on my shoulder. For the first time in my life, I felt what it must feel like to have a daughter. I felt a strange love for Ferrina, even though we'd only known each other for two days.

Ferrina looked up into my face, and smiled in her now familiar way. She began to tell me about life in the Aldmeri Dominion, sharing her displeasures with her father and how harsh and perfectionist High Elf society was. I could tell that she really didn't want to go back to her father.

"Don't worry, you've always got a place with me if you want it." I snickered, "Besides, I need someone to help me fight off those dang assassins if they ever show up." I punched her shoulder playfully.

"Thanks Pamir!" She whispered.

We sat for a few more moments. Then, with a sigh, Ferrina settled in and fell sound asleep.

-SS-

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Ferrina asked worriedly, "Could a dragon even fit in there?

I laughed as we looked into a large dark cave that Farengar had once told me was called Pinepeak Cavern. Ferrina was right, the opening did seem too small for a dragon to pass through. However, a splattering of other cavern openings covered the south face of the Throat of the World.

"Look, there are a lot of places the dragon could enter. Many of these caves meet up deeper inside the mountain," I pointed out.

"How will we find it?" Ferrina replied, "There must be hundreds of pathways through these caves."

"Simple, we just follow the big ones. Any crevice too small for a dragon means it can't have come nearby."

Ferrina still looked worried. I dropped off of Soilstrider and helped her down.

"Just stick by me and you'll do alright. Just be careful, the caverns around here are usually full of old tombs, and old tombs mean draugr could be anywhere." I told her as I gathered our supplies.

We'd gone through most of our rations already, but we had enough for a few days if we were careful. Ferrina grabbed some food, just in case we would be gone too long. I left rest of the rations in Strider's saddlebags and grabbed my small stock of potions and filled soul gems. I only had a few, mostly small petty gems.

After tying my horse to a tree a few hundred feet down the slope, we approached the cavern entrance.

As we stepped inside, we followed a winding path until we reached a small hewn stone room. It looked just like a few other tombs I'd explored, which only confirmed that we'd probably see draugr before long.

Right on schedule, a muffled cracking resounded from across the room, and I drew my dagger. Across the room, a coffin lid was shaking. It burst open with a loud crack, and a horribly bony man climbed out. A Restless Draugr, as they're called. The living dead began to crawl from every opening as this first draugr pulled its axe from his belt. The tattered hair and round chest indicated that it was once a woman.

I focused my energy, then fired it in a bolt of lightning, which knocked the first one over. I grinned at Ferrina. She'd taught me the spell yesterday, and it was certainly useful. However, it was not enough. The female draugr climbed to its feet, flanked by a few skeletons and 3 fellow draugr. I fired another bolt, this time shattering one of the skeletons. The female draugr took a swing at me, but I deflected it off my dagger and jumped back.

Ferrina stepped forward and swept across the group with her Flames spell, burning the draugr a great deal. The skeletons fell to pieces, their magical life drained from the damage. As the flames dissipated, I dashed through the group, killing the female and another one while they were stunned. The other two draugr turned to attack me, but Ferrina drove her knife into the heart of one.

As she kicked the body over off of her knife, the other swung. I was just barely able to block the hit from cleaving Ferrina in two by slamming into the draugr from the side. He crumpled, and I jammed my foot into his neck and twisted to sever the spinal cord, finishing him off.

We took a breath as adrenaline surged through my veins. There were already more of the living dead climbing from their places of rest!

"Run!" I commanded, pushing her in the direction of the innards of the cave. I ran right behind her, guiding her through the cave. I shoved a large urn over as I passed, hoping to discourage pursuit, but the draugr just jumped over it. I think it might have tripped one up, but it was pretty useless.

Eventually, we ran up some stairs and into a large banquet hall. I glanced up and saw a draugr holding a bow standing on an elevated walkway. An arrow whizzed by, almost hitting Ferrina in the chest. Lucky for her, the undead enemy hadn't taken into account her size. I blasted the undead archer with a thunderbolt in response. He fell from the walkway, and cracked his skull on the floor.

I grabbed the draugr's bow, a thick Nordic one, and his quiver of iron arrows, turning to bear upon our pursuers. Immediately, I struck a helmeted draugr in the chest, sending him tumbling down the stairs. I fired repeatedly down the stairs, trying to discourage them from following, but even as they fell one by one, the remaining draugr continued up the stairs.

Ferrina flooded the staircase with flames, then turned tail and ran when they began to draw too close. Barely evading the swing of a Great-sword, I followed suit. The next room came at the end of a long tunnel. I slammed the door closed after we passed through, frantically scanning the room for a place to hide.

The room consisted of a wide set of stairs up to a large curved wall. Atop the wall sat a large skull, the skull of a dragon! But there was no time for examining it. I dragged Ferrina through a door and up a curved stair to an upper platform. We hid just inside the doorway, so we could not be seen from below.

The door we'd entered from flew open only seconds after we hid. First through was an armored draugr with a large horned helmet. As he looked around, I threw a rock through a doorway opposite our position. As I'd hoped, the rock cracked against the stone floor, catching the attention of our enemies. The leader made a loud clacking sound, pointing where the rock hit and rushed through, leading all 23 of the other draugr and skeletons (I counted) followed in single file. The door fell closed behind the last one, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. We both sighed in relief.

"We made it," I grinned, "Welcome to Skyrim, land of the living dead."

"That was scary!" Ferrina grimaced, "Adventuring is tougher than I thought."

"Don't worry," I said, "You did a good job. They don't usually swarm like that..." I clasped her shoulder, "How about we take a break and check out that dragon skull?"

Ferrina smiled, "Sure, let's look at dead things," She sarcastically commented. We went down the way we came and I approached the curved wall. It was covered in roughly scratched symbols. As I drew close, I began to hear a strange chanting.

I whipped around, looking for the source. Ferrina looked up from where she sat on the ground, a piece of a sandwich halfway in her mouth. "What?" She asked.

"Do you hear that?" I asked her.

"I don't hear anything," She responded, confused, "Well, except the killer dead people running around."

"I hear chanting..." I took another step toward the wall, and the chanting got louder. I kept going, and a few of the symbols on the wall lit up. A sound like the rushing of the wind echoed about the room, and tendrils of light blasted into my chest. All at once, I understood the word. It was FUS, being interpreted "force". I tried to speak it, but it caught in my throat, as if I wasn't sure how to pronounce it.

Ferrina was on her feet when I turned back around. She looked bewildered, her sandwich abandoned on the floor. "What was that?" She gasped, "That was nothing like anything I've ever studied."

"I'm not sure..." I admitted, "Maybe it's daedric magic." I didn't mention that the only other spoken magic I'd ever heard of was that of dragons. I picked up her sandwich and returned it to her hands. She was about to start asking questions, but I cut her off. "I'll be fine, don't worry," I assured her.

Somehow, I don't think I was very convincing.

-SS-

I led the way farther into the cave, picking through the rooms for supplies. Somehow, there was always at least a few things to find in every one of these tombs.

We eventually reached a large passageway, large enough for a dragon to easily move through. "We must be on the right track," I commented. Ferrina only nodded. I could tell that Ferrina was still deep in thought.

I hated to keep a secret from her, but I didn't know for sure about anything. Yes, the word of power I'd found was exactly like I'd read about, but that didn't mean I'm a Dragonborn or anything, right? Suppose I was though... I'd certainly be much more accepted in Skyrim, especially among the Nords.

Ferrina brought me back from my thoughts, "Are you sure you don't know anything about that wall?"

It's kind of shameful how quickly I caved, "I didn't want to say anything, but the only spoken magic I've ever heard of is the dragons, plus the dragon skull solidifies that link," I admitted, "I did read of an old legend of men who could use the dragon language, called the Dragonborn..."

"That'd be so cool if you could talk to dragons!" Ferrina giggled, "You could tell them to leave, then they wouldn't kill people!"

"Umm, I don't think that's how that works..." I smiled, "Let's go find the dragon in here, and we'll see." I led the way deeper into the passage. As we moved closer, I began to hear noises, a loud clacking and a few thumps against walls.

I credit my reflexes for saving my life this time. A loud trio of words echoed through the tunnels, and I saw a pillar of flame coming through the tunnel. "Get down!" I shouted.

Ferrina and I dropped prone, and I pulled her under my cloak, protecting us from being baked alive. It was just like the books said! Dragons really do use vocal magic!

I pulled Ferrina up and we ran down the tunnel toward the sounds. Around a corner, we saw what can only be described as a bloodbath. The floor was covered in bloodstains, likely from the pile of corpses in the corner. A few draugr, including the armored deathlord we'd seen, were fighting a great gray dragon. Many of their fallen comrades were already dead. To their credit, the dragon was covered in slices, but it wasn't even fazed.

"YOR-TOL-SHUL!" The dragon cried, sending a wave of fire across the band of undead. All but the armored deathlord fell. With a valiant overhead slash, the deathlord drove his greatsword down through the dragon's nose, pinning its mouth shut. Unfortunately, the dragon then clawed the deathlord in the chest, ripping it to pieces.

Then the dragon turned toward us. It moved its jaw expertly, and pushed the sword out, freeing its mouth again. Then it spoke, "Dovahkiin, you will not realize your power," It mumbled in a hissing language.

"Whatever that means, I'm ready for a fight!" I drew my sword and held it at ready, "Ferrina, keep safe," was my last words to my friend before I ran to challenge the dragon.

As I began to run forward, the dragon breathed fire, casting up a wall of flames in my way. I made a giant leap, and flew over the flames, only singeing my boots a bit. Rolling to my feet, I found myself inches from the dragon's side. With a great cry, I sliced upwards, cutting cleanly through the scales with my enhanced cutting power.

The dragon cried in pain, whipping its tail back and forth to knock me aside. I managed to dodge the first swings, but got caught in the chest by the next, getting carried a few feet by the tail before I was flung off.

I managed to roll as I landed, so I was relatively unharmed. I glanced around and located Ferrina, who was hidden past a small doorway. Sure of her relative safety, I turned back to the dragon.

The dragon opened its mouth, and I prepared to dodge the inevitable fire. However, this time a different phrase was used. "FUS-RO-DAH!" It yelled.

A series of three waves fired from the dragon's maw, striking me with a great force. I flew halfway across the room, cracking my head against the wall. As I dragged myself dizzily to my feet I realized something amazing. "FUS" or force was the key word it had used! I understood its power more now, how speaking words allowed it to access magic.

I needed to end this fight fast. I was definitely out matched in strength, so cunning would need to be my method. Taking a petty soul gem from my pouch, I quickly transferred the charge to Windshear. I would need all the help I could get for my new plan.

I saw the dragon sniffing around, trying to find Ferrina, most likely. I fired a thunderbolt, which mostly bounced off, but it got its attention back to me. I fired a few more bolts, drawing the dragon away from the confines of the room.

I slipped into a small side passage, hiding from the dragon as it passed by. I stepped out and leaped up above the dragon. It looked up and opened its mouth to attack.

"FUS!" I shouted. My Shout was weaker, but it knocked the dragon's head aside. I swung down at the neck, using gravity to add force to my strike. Windshear sliced through the scales with difficulty, but the flesh shredded easily, and the bone cracked cleanly.

I hit the ground in a heap, a loud clacking echoing as my armor impacted the stone. Blood was everywhere, but it wasn't mine. I looked to where my sword stuck out from the neck of the dragon. It was struggling, gasping for breath through a torn windpipe. I pulled myself to my feet, catching my breath. Shouting had drained my strength significantly, and knocked the wind from me.

I pulled my dagger again, and with a cry, drove it into the eye of this horrid creature. The dragon was dead. I leaped back as the body combusted, burning the flesh and scales from the body. Tendrils of light flew from the corpse, imbuing my mind with knowledge and wisdom of the Voice. Ferrina, upon seeing these things, rushed from her place towards me.

Suddenly, the whole cavern began to shake. Ferrina reached me just as the ceiling began to crack, raining dirt and pebbles on top of us. A loud cry echoed through the cavern, probably loud enough to be heard in the borders of Cyrodiil.

"DOH - VAH - KIIN!"

Then, all at once, everything was silent. Deafening silence.

Ferrina broke it, asking, "What was that?"

"My new calling, Ferrina. And it's a good one." I grinned.

AND THE REST IS HISTORY...


End file.
